


New Normal

by blueteak



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Begging, Multi, Pegging, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-02 15:26:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6571531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueteak/pseuds/blueteak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack tries not to think too hard about why he can't sit down at work. Surely it's because he's been knocked down repeatedly by bank robbers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Normal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [within_a_dream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/gifts).



Given that they’d been doing this for over a month, Jack couldn’t believe they were still limited to one strap-on. Mind, Jack couldn’t believe they had been doing this for a month, either. In fact, Jack often couldn’t believe that they were doing it at all until they were actually doing it, with or without the strap-on phallus. But mostly with. 

Over the past four-and-a-half weeks, he’d gone about his days as usual, cycling through the routine of looking at bodies in alleys, bodies on beaches, bodies in hotels, being rescued by Phryne, rescuing Phryne and Hugh, being rescued by Dot and Phryne, and then, inevitably, trying to type out a report that omitted the fact that Phryne had got a confession by holding a gun to priceless (though purloined art) or Dot had gone undercover as a nun or a psychic or a fruit seller. Any twinges he experienced while sitting to write the reports could easily be attributed to the pain of falling out of a window or being pushed out of a moving train or being beaten by murdering bank robbers.

He didn’t put the fact that he and Phryne and Dot and Hugh had somehow become a foursome who got up to the kinds of things he’d have to arrest himself for if he thought about them too hard because he was ashamed, exactly. Nor was it because he couldn’t connect the people Hugh and Dot and Phryne were in bed with the people they were out of it.

No, even Dot, who he could never have imagined wetting the strap-on with Phryne’s mouth before taking Hugh with it (so gently and yet so mercilessly, promising and then withholding release, thrusting there and there and there again until Hugh’s eyes filled with tears and the tears got kissed or licked away by multiple mouths), was recognizably herself in and out of bed, if he thought about it (which he was most assuredly not doing while sitting at his desk writing a report). 

Once Dot had made up her mind that she and Hugh were joining them, she’d been determined to learn everything she could about what they already had (and Phryne had quite a lot, including, of course, the strap-on). She had wanted to discover what felt best, what tasted best, what combinations she could create (she was inventive in the bedroom as well as the kitchen) that none of them had thought of previously, even with the inspiration of the book Phryne had gifted to Hugh. 

Of course, while determined to learn and enjoy and share, Dot had also, initially, been slightly territorial about Hugh, wanting to mark firsts with him herself before inviting others in. Jack didn’t even think she’d been aware of that need. One minute she’d been watching him gently, slowly stroking down the back of Hugh's thigh, watching the goosebumps rise as Jack came closer and closer to circling his hole, and the next she was gently but firmly grasping his hand and putting it back on the bed. Jack had given Phryne an inquiring look and she’d shrugged, mouthing “newlyweds.” He’d nodded sagely back before realizing that they, too, were newlyweds. Phyrne had had an answer to his unvoiced response ready, too. “But we’re us,” she’s said, and winked.

And because they were them, Phryne had handed Jack the phallus and asked him to get it wet for Hugh and Dot while they looked on, wide-eyed and slightly apprehensive. It was hard tell which one of them was more nervous.

Jack, at that point, did not have much experience being fucked with the phallus. Phryne very vocally enjoyed the sight of him kneeling before her, hair mussed, drooling around a mouth full of cock and crying around the need to suppress his gag reflex. But after he’d got it good and wet with spit and tears and willpower, fingers clutching desperately at her bottom to pull her deeper deeper deeper, she’d almost always pull him off, unbuckle the phallus, and pull him in, this time licking into her deeper and deeper and deeper until she was once again clenching his hair while he clenched the sheets, jaw aching but tingling with pride. He could never get enough of Phryne looking at him with a tinge of surprise and calling him a natural, and was overjoyed at the knowledge that he could do all of this, he wanted it, he could admit that he wanted it, and he was good at it. He was so, so good at it, as Phryne’s voice and his aching scalp and jaw reminded him.

He had been certain Phryne hadn’t fucked him with the phallus because she was afraid he would think it was a step too far and be insulted. He’d tried to show her it wasn’t the case, asking for her fingers and even (his face grew hot at the memory) stretching himself open the way he’d seen men doing to themselves in photographs the vice squad had circulated, voices a little too disgusted. 

And still Phryne wasn’t taking him from behind or face-to-face or on his side or any number of positions he’d most certainly not imagined while sitting at his desk across from her and discussing why it would be an absolutely terrible idea for her to go undercover as a milkmaid (outside the bedroom, anyway). The phallus, gleaming wet with all his hard work, continued to be tossed aside on the bed after he’d orally pleasured it.

Once Jack had made it as clear as he could possibly make it that he did not object in any way to being penetrated wherever Phryne might wish to penetrate him, he had thought, wracking his brain to solve this mystery, that perhaps Phryne didn’t know how to make it pleasurable for him and was embarrassed to admit that there was something about sex that she didn’t know.

Medical texts borrowed from a knowing Mac appeared in the house and were to be found mysteriously opened to sections on the prostate. After a few days without any comments, a photo Vice would confiscate if they ever saw it appeared next to the entry. Still nothing.

Finally, Jack had broken down and asked after a second photo had been left out and the phallus had once again been put aside for the evening without stimulating his prostate even a little. “Why won’t you bend me over and use it on me? Do you not know how? Do I seem like I don’t want it?”

Before Phryne could get a word in, Jack groaned even as his eyes gleamed at having (finally) solved the case. “You wanted me to beg for it. How could I not have seen! Alright, Phryne, please please please bend me over, make me scream, use more slick, less slick, whatever position you want but just please I want to be filled there and I can’t think of anything else and….”

Phryne had pulled him to her by the hair and kissed the gasp out of him, then continued to kiss him breathless (it hadn't taken long. Most of his breath had gone with the begging). Finally, she'd moved on to giving his lips teasing little bites that reddened his mouth more than the transfer of her lipstick had. And then she was arranging him on all fours, reattaching the harness, and preparing the phallus with oil.

Jack shivered at the sight, at the ritual, at finally, finally being laid out and taken. The phallus, which had cooled since Jack’s mouth had been on it and then rewarmed, by Phryne’s hand, nudged at his entrance.

It hadn’t been until Phryne was fully seated within him (she hadn’t knelt too high or too low…of course she had done this before!), that she’d leaned forward, breasts pressed warm and solid against his back in a way that was much, much better than he’d ever imagined it could be, and whispered “You were wrong, by the way. I don’t usually do this because I don’t like doing the work.” Then she’d pulled almost all the way out (who could have know the drag would be so sweet?) before sinking back in deep. “But I don’t mind when you beg so well. Good Lord, Jack.”

Jack had dropped his head in his hands and moaned for all sorts of reasons. 

Dot, however…..well. After that first time, with Jack and Phryne both giving directions, showing her how to crook her fingers inside Hugh just so and then each taking one of his trembling legs to spread him wider for her, stroking his hair and watching his cock twitch at every “Good boy, you’re taking this so well,” she’d essentially made the strap-on her own. She had even made it a more aesthetically pleasing (and more comfortable, Phryne had complimented) harness. 

After eventually watching both Jack and Hugh work themselves up and down on Dot’s cock and bounce, Phryne became reinvested in the possibilities of the phallus (though Jack couldn’t help but notice that while Phryne still preferred him do all the work, she enjoyed taking Hugh over the back of the sofa. When asked, she explained it was so that Hugh could practice his oral skills on both Dot and Jack, which was fair. And it wasn’t as though Dot wouldn’t bend him over any available surface, including the kitchen table while she waited for the scones to bake.)

As Jack finished his latest report and reached for a scone (baked this morning, his mind couldn’t help reminding him, while he’d shown a blushing Dot how good a cock up the bum felt for the first time), his brain finally allowed him to realize that a.) he’d been thinking about what they had all been doing at the back of his mind for a month and b.) it hadn’t changed who he was or who they were or damaged how they all got along, even if dynamics and shifted, strengthened, and, finally, c.) they could all still easily work together, and work together well, as the stream of convictions for murders committed in dairies, banks, beaches and alleys testified.  
Though Hugh had occasionally balked at some of the things they had suggested, he still never balked at an order from Jack at work, or at least no less than he had before he’d had Jack’s fingers in him and his mouth on him. 

Now, as Jack delivered files for Hugh to peruse for their latest case, he allowed their fingers to brush and promises for tonight to be clear in his eyes. Hugh dropped his eyes and blushed and Jack resolved to finally purchase another another strap-on himself rather than leave it up to Phryne. And while he was at it, he was going to get a double-ended dildo. Chance were they’d all be fighting over it at the end of the week, but then maybe Hugh could raid Vice and get them another.


End file.
